


ghosts of the past

by very_vary



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Battle Scars, M/M, Oneshot, Shatt, Shatt Week 2018, can you tell i don't have any clue how to tag things on this site?, descriptions of scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_vary/pseuds/very_vary
Summary: unfortunately, ever since the ring, places that should be happy are constantly tainted by the past.





	ghosts of the past

**Author's Note:**

> this is my day 1 entry for shatt week 2018! god, i'm so behind, but i was determined to do it this year, so it's happening, even if it's late. this is day 1: confession/healing.

Matt would claim he was used to intimacy with Shiro by now. They’d been together for years -- though they’d only been “officially” together since they reunited at the Castle of Lions and realized how short life was -- and he told himself that being naked in front of him was nothing new, that only taking his shirt off in front of Shiro wasn’t a big deal. 

So why couldn’t he seem to bring himself to do this?

It was amazing how much he tried to force himself into denial about how much he’d changed since the last time he had even taken his top off near him. They’d been separated across the galaxy, and because of that, he was stronger and very, very scarred. As much as he wanted to tease and brag about his abs, the facade of confidence and recklessness only lasted until he was dared to back up his claims. 

They’d been shamelessly flirting in Shiro’s quarters, joking around and teasing each other at every turn. This definitely wasn’t uncommon -- more often than not, he was here, taking a break and relaxing for once with someone other than his sister (who was usually busy anyway). It gave both of them time away from the war where they could just enjoy themselves and not have to think about the Galra or fighting or any of that bullshit, or at least, not in a serious way. He’d missed being able to just be happy with Shiro, and these little breaks gave him that opportunity. As usual, just a few moments ago, Matt’s bubbling laughter had spilled through the room. 

“Did you just... Did you just call me a twink?”

Shiro went bright red, spluttering and laughing a little. “I didn’t mean it like that, Jesus,” He insisted, but Matt seemed unconvinced. “What else is that supposed to mean, Shiro? Please. Enlighten me, what is your definition of twink?” Unfortunately, the black paladin seemed a little too caught up in his slip-up to answer for a moment, leaving Matt amused and somewhat offended, one eyebrow raised. “I’m genuinely curious! I mean, I can kind of see it, anyway. Not anymore, but before we got caught up in all this? Definitely.” 

It was Shiro’s turn to scoff in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You’re acting like you became a bodybuilder. You’re still the type.” Okay, now Matt seemed genuinely offended. “What? I grew like, 6 inches! I have abs now!” 

“Oh, yeah? Prove it.”

What was usually a light-hearted, albeit slightly charged statement, made Matt pale and hesitate. Both of them had self esteem issues, he told himself, Shiro wouldn’t judge him, but it wasn’t as convincing as he wanted it to be. Shiro, god bless him, seemed to see the worry in his face and his smile dropped. He reached out with his human hand and rested his hand on his shoulder. “Matt, you don’t have to,” Was his immediate reassurance, but he brushed him off, taking a deep breath. “No,” He breathed. “I do. I really do, but… you get it.” He knew he needed to face his insecurities, but that didn’t mean he could stop how anxiety gripped his heart and made his chest tighten just thinking about it. His partner nodded, his hand sliding down his arm to squeeze Matt’s for a moment before pulling away. “I know, but we’ve talked about this. You don’t want serious stuff in here, right?” That was true. They’d automatically delved into depressing topics their first night back together, and Matt had drawn the line: he wanted to relax. They would talk about their pasts outside of that room. They wouldn’t taint the happy atmosphere with that. But he knew it was inevitable, and that just bottling things like that up wouldn’t last forever. One day, he’d snap and burst, and he didn’t know what he’d do when he broke down. He knew it was best to avoid collateral damage by letting fears and memories out as they came to him, instead of just letting the pressure build up in his mind before he said something or did something he’d come to regret.

“No, no. It’s a stupid rule, I don’t even know why I made it.” Of course both of them knew why, but he could at least say it, even if it was a blatant white lie. “God, why is this so hard?” He muttered, leaning in and burying his face in Shiro’s shoulder for a few moments as he took deep breaths. He enjoyed the feeling of his boyfriend’s arms snaking around his waist, comforting and familiar as they just breathed together for a few moments. 

“If it’ll make it easier, and you really want to go through with it, I’ll take my shirt off first.” Shiro quietly offered, and Matt pulled back, eyes wide. “Are you sure?” He knew, if anything, Shiro’s insecurities were worse, even if he was better at working around them. He didn’t blame him -- he doubted the Galra cared much for the appearance of his arm when they gave him his prosthetic, and on top of that, he had all the scarring Matt did, if not more. He was the Champion, after all, and though Matt lost more often, the Champion’s battles were always purposefully much more intense and difficult. It had made a better show.

Shiro nodded, though, and pulled back. Matt shifted away from him and out of his lap so he had space, and he pulled his shirt off over his head, leaving his boyfriend to look on and stare.

He tried not to look horrified. He wasn’t horrified at his appearance necessarily, no, it wasn’t the fact that he was scarred and hurt that made him slightly nauseous, it was just the rage that burned through his veins at seeing how damaged he was. Old slashes sliced through his chest, one particularly bad and deep scar trailing all the way from his left shoulder to the right side of his torso. There were plenty of messy scars from battle, deep and sometimes puffy, but there were more ominous scars, too. Those were scars too neat to be anything but man-made, leftover from Galra procedures, or raised and ugly, demonstrating how they’d forced the healing process so they could keep operating, keep torturing them.

And then there was his arm, which was the worst thing of all, honestly. It looked like it could have healed days ago, purple and red and almost swollen. The scar tissue was rough, pulled tight, and rounded the end where burn scars also webbed across it from fusing the metal to the stump like they were soldering pieces on a motherboard. It made him speechless for a moment, and Shiro didn’t meet his eyes as his gaze traveled over his whole muscled torso and back up to his face.

He wasn’t sure what to do other than reach out, gently cupping his cheek in his hand and trying to get him to make eye contact again. “I’m sorry,” were the first words he managed to get out. “I promise, one day I’ll make them pay for what they did to you.” He murmured, his first reaction anger and a need for revenge. “I swear, I swear I’ll track down the ones that took your arm and I’ll kill them myself. I’ll find the witch and I’ll--” Shiro shushed him as he dropped his arm, and it registered that his vision was blurring. He hurriedly wiped his cheeks as Shiro spoke. “It’s okay.” 

Matt seemed to explode. “It’s not! It’s not okay! They shouldn’t’ve done that to you, you didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserve any of this. It’s not okay, and it’s not fair.” The tears didn’t seem to stop when he wiped them away, and they started dripping down his cheeks. “We just wanted to explore. It’s not fair.” He didn’t mean to break down and turn the conversation towards himself, but there was just a lot of pent up despair behind his words. It wasn’t fair, and he’d spent a lot of late nights wondering what they did to deserve this. Some part of them knew they didn’t deserve it, that this was just a horrible twist of fate, but he couldn’t help but daydream of missed opportunities and different choices, and long for a normal life again.

“I know.” Was Shiro’s only reply, and soon they were both crying. Matt pulled him into a hug and they sobbed together, letting out all of that despair and anger. God, he was so stupid making the rule not to talk about serious shit. Shiro was the only one that could truly understand. Why did he deny himself that?

They wept into each other’s shoulders for god knows how long before they both calmed down, wiping each other’s tears and trying to steady their shaky breathing. Matt ran his hands gingerly over his arm and traced down the long slashes. Shiro relaxed under his touch, and that made him feel a little better, despite the dread pooling in his stomach that he couldn’t seem to shake. There were just a few moments where they stayed silent, his hands exploring and getting to know the new, rough map of Shiro’s skin. It was an unspoken reassurance. As time went on, though, his actions became repetitive, and the dread became overwhelming. He knew he was probably overreacting, but he couldn’t help how his pulse picked up again with panic as Shiro gently took his wrist and murmured “You’re stalling, Matt.” It was a good exercise while it lasted, but it was obvious he was putting off his own side of this agreement.

It took a few moments, but he pulled back and took off his shirt, too, in one smooth motion, despite how his hands shook once he held the piece of fabric in his hands. Matt was still somewhat lanky, less built than Shiro, but with a very different array of scars. He watched as Shiro’s eyes traveled over his skin, knowing he’d done the same, but still frozen regardless. He watched Shiro wince as he traced a deeper scar with his gaze. That one, Shiro watched happen in the ring. He eventually won the fight, but not before his opponent sliced open his arm and chest with a deep, piercing slash. Matt fell down, crying out in pain and sobbing, and many thought he wasn’t going to get back up. He managed to fight from the ground and win, but that didn’t mean that the image of him like that wasn’t seared into Shiro’s head like close calls in Shiro’s fights were for Matt. After the ring, though, their scars changed. Matt had a circular, raised scar that looked like a bullet wound. Severe burn scars wound up his left side and his left arm from taking the brunt of an explosion for Olia. There was one raised, ugly, rubbery scar that could have only been from a stab wound. The freedom fighters didn’t have healing pods and advanced medical technology. You fought for your life the hard way, and lived or died with scars to tell your story.

It took a moment for Shiro to look back at him. Matt looked somewhat terrified, and his boyfriend just gave him a small smile. “You’re right. You do have nice abs.”

Matt let out a weak laugh, looking down and shaking his head. But the fear-filled tension disappeared, and he ran a hand back through his shaggy hair. “You are so ridiculous.” He muttered, leaning in and pressing a light kiss to his lips. Shiro pulled him back into his lap, and they relaxed in their closeness again. He rested his forehead against his boyfriend’s, and they breathed together, close and intimate in a gentle, sweet kind of way. 

“I know. I’m the worst. But you love me.” Shiro murmured, grabbing another smile from Matt.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me about shatt on instagram @altcalliope or on tumblr @literarygenesis. i have no friends that like this ship so any chatting about it is good chatting <3 i don't bite


End file.
